


A Memorable Cruise

by arlenejp



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Emotional Hurt, F/M, Light fuffy, M/M, Sexual Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-09 08:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10407648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arlenejp/pseuds/arlenejp
Summary: John Watson goes on a cruise ship and meets Sherlock.





	

'What am I doing here?' is the thought running through my head as I walk the deck of a large cruise ship.

* * *

I certainly am grateful to Mom for giving me the money and insisting I go away for awhile.

I had taken care of my sister during the last two years of her 'drinking binge', and now that she was healthy it was Mom that needed the attention. Cooking, shopping cleaning, and most important, someone to talk to.

* * *

When I finished this trip I was coming to stay with her in the house I grew up in.

Mom had lost Dad a few years ago and now had trouble with her heart and could not walk well.

* * *

This trip was more to satisfy Mom and Sis than me. Harry was much better mentally and physically, found a flat and wonderfully now had decent job.

* * *

Turns out Harry is gay-but would Mom have a fit if she found out! And with mom's health on the line, both Harry and I agree to keep it a secret.

* * *

I gave up my small clinic, being a doctor and the practice, to go on this trip. My work had become boring. Taking care of patients with colds, sprains and the simple, everyday ills. Very boring!

I miss the excitement of the battlefield while in the army in Afghanistan. 

* * *

Rushing from patient to patient while the noise of gunfire and shells were going off all around. I received a bad shoulder wound which became infected and lay in a hospital for a month and then was 'taken out of commission.'

* * *

I was so alone and feeling so depressed. An ex-army doctor, John Watson my name, with a small practice and a one-room flat outside of London. It felt to me as if there was nothing to live for anymore.

* * *

Determined to make the best of this cruise situation I dress for dinner the first night and take myself off to the main dining room.

I purposely arrive late thinking I would be the only single at the table, and the conversation would be somewhat stilted.

Sure enough, it was a table of ten, and there were four couples already sitting. Which could mean another single person or just myself.

* * *

The waiter mentioned a gentleman by the name of Holmes would be occupying the other seat. He never showed up that night. 

* * *

The evening progressed very slowly with me mainly listening to the couples converse. They tried to draw me in, but I was so uncomfortable with my situation that I finally I manage to gracefully leave before dessert.

* * *

The next day proved to be a calm sea with cool winds blowing and a strong sun.

* * *

I could not resist going for a walk on the main deck. Everyone was outside playing games or chatting with each other. Me? I felt so out of place. Again...So alone!

* * *

As I walk, watching the passengers and their activities, I notice a man at the railing throwing what looked like nuts out to sea. 

Getting closer I hear him muttering, "bored, bored." How that resonated with me!

* * *

I stop to watch him and become enthralled with his looks, his features.

* * *

He's about six feet tall, very slim, and wearing what looks to be an expensive dark blue suit and a silk purple shirt. Certainly not ship wear. Too formal actually.

But his face is the most intriguing.

* * *

From the side, I manage to see stand out cheekbones, and thick black curly hair that is wildly disheveled from the wind, blowing it in all directions.

* * *

Out of the corner of his eye he detects me, knowing I'm observing him. 

He turns toward me I and notice a bow mouth that deserves to be on a woman.

Strange hazel-blueish eyes flash in my direction.

* * *

I must admit I'm spellbound. Why I do not know.

Charming is the word that sticks in my mind even though he's not yet spoken a word or acknowledged me.

He turns away, continues to stare out to sea. Is he as alone as I am?

* * *

I give up my meandering around the deck, go back to my room and spend the rest of the day reading.

* * *

I arrive at my table for dinner that night, and to my shock, there is the man from the railing!

I take the seat next to him, the other couples already engaged in earnest conversation.

In a deep baritone voice, wine glass in hand, he introduces himself as Sherlock Holmes.

Giving him my name I put out my hand out for a handshake. He ignores it, and his eyes wander around the room.

* * *

I try to engage him in conversation, but he disregards me and the other couples. His dinner is sparsely eaten. 

What a strange man!

Tonight he has on a black suit and a silk blue shirt. No tie. I'm amazed those shirt buttons don't pop open. Is he wearing a shirt too small for a reason?

* * *

          'What am I doing,' I think to myself.

Not being able to take my eyes off him. He has an aura, an impression of great knowledge. Generally, I don't pay attention to the male species, as I prefer women.

But there is an appeal, a magnetism that draws me to him.

* * *

He leaves the table before I do, not even a goodnight or recognition to any of us.

I make some inane conversation with the gentleman on my right, Adam Belfour, a newspaper reporter, and we enjoy ourselves till after dessert.

Adam asks me to stay with him and his wife and have a cocktail, but I decline.

* * *

It's a nice night with a bright moon out, and I join some of the other passengers walking around. I nod and smile-but after two brisk walks on the upper deck I leave for my room.

* * *

The next day we are slated to take a bus tour of the town of Oban in Scotland where our ship has currently docked. 

The trip coordinator asks if it would be an imposition on my part if I pair with Mr. Holmes, being the two single men in the group. I shrug and give my assent.

* * *

          "Call me Sherlock and do I call you Doctor or John?" as we board the bus. 

          "John would be fine, just fine."

          "Now that we got that over with," and looks out the window dismissing me.

I'm wearing my khaki slacks and a plaid jumper with a light jacket which I can roll up if the weather is too warm.

Strangely Sherlock still looks dressed up in a green silk shirt, black trousers and a button-down black sweater.

"I'm here as a present from my mom. I've been taking care of my sister and mom felt I needed a rest. What about you?"

* * *

          "I also got hoodwinked, same as you, into this trip by my older brother Mycroft. I'm a detective, newly returned from a case in the Middle East. My brother, his usual haughty self, planned this ridiculous cruise without my knowledge."

His mood one of 'leave me alone. Which I do for the trip into town.

I'm surprised when he corrects his step to fall in with my smaller gait and stays with me through the tourist attractions.

Along the way, as we visit the standard attractions with our guide, Sherlock is quick to correct the man anytime he feels a mistake has been made.

Taking my arm, guiding me away from the fourteen members of our tour, we enter a side street.

          "Where are we going?"

          "Away. To see Oban. The real Oban."

No tourists, or at least very few are to be seen.

* * *

He and I stroll at leisure amongst the shops.

* * *

One catches his eye and we walk into a small dark interior. 

The woman greets us with a nod of her head. There's wool sweaters, coats, jumpers, hats jumbled with no perceivable order.

They are soft, luxurious and colorful. I pick out a sweater for Harry, a scarf for Sherlock and one for mom. Sherlock has an angora jumper in hand. I don't ask who it's for because it's so obvious that jumpers are not his style at all.

After roaming around outside, I see a pop-up kitchen truck serving vegetarian dumplings, and Sherlock and I each have one with coffee from another stand. Gooey and messy. I finally see him laughing along with me.

* * *

He goes on to explain that there's a two-bedroom flat in the heart of London ready for him with a good deal on the rental amount. Something about working with the landlady two years ago to get her out of a tight situation.

* * *

Time to get back to our bus to board the ship.,/p> The trip back is made extremely entertaining by Sherlock's description of each of the people on the bus, what they do and who's shagging who.

He is rude about it, pulling no punches and calls it his power of deduction.

I'm wide-eyed, finding I'm mesmerized by him.

He seems so surprised every time the words 'fantastic' or 'amazing' comes out of my mouth!"

* * *

When I finally ask him why he's so taken when I say nice things about him his answer is, well, not so surprising.

          " Most people say 'piss off.'"

          "Yea, I can understand why," with a big grin.

* * *

We made sure to sit next to each other that night at dinner. 

His delight was in analyzing all the guests and the crew, and I found my mouth agape most of the time.

* * *

Our next tour on land we opted not to go with the group but rent a taxi and sightsee on our own.

Sherlock was a prodigious guide pointing out things that I think wouldn't have been noticed by most people. The war and peace museum was a success with both of us, our interest in history making it easy to chat.

Next was the Ocean Explorer Centre, a small but, again, an interest we both had.

Our last stop before going back to the ship was Dunstaffnage Castle & Chapel. Sherlock partially read and partially knew all the details by heart.

          "Jacobite heroine Flora MacDonald was believed to have been held in prisoner here. It's one of the oldest stone castles in Scotland and the former stronghold of the MacDougalls."

Wandering around the grounds listening to that baritone voice parcel out the story of the castle I was captivated.

          " Built around 1220 by Duncan MacDougall, the son of Earl Somerled, known also as the ‘King of the Isles’, this castle was built at the height of the battle between Scotland and Norway for control of the Hebrides. It was once besieged by Robert the Bruce during the Wars of Independence."

* * *

It was high on a hill in the countryside. The greenery of the landscape, the sheep in the field, the small houses, so beautiful! We were out in the middle of nowhere.

* * *

Yes, Harry and mom, you were right. I am glad I took this cruise but now mainly because of this gentleman walking beside me.

* * *

Our taxi driver did not speak English and Sherlock managed to make himself understood with hand gestures and pidgin English.

The light of the day was dimming, and the adventure was over. The ship was leaving that night for another port, and the time was growing short.

* * *

Our taxi was old, sputtering and making noises no car should make.

It was no great surprise when the car jounced, jerked and came to a complete halt. Our driver turned the key and it made a grinding clang and that was it. Nothing he did could start it.

          "It's the engine. A gasket or something. It's not going to start now."

It had gotten very chilly, and we both didn't have our coats with us.

It was a long, long walk back to town to find someone to bring us to the ship. 

After many hand gestures, head bobs and picture writing in the sand we had our driver understand. He was to go to the nearest town and get transportation for us.

* * *

The driver left and we sat in the back of the taxi.

* * *

          Well, here's another nice mess we've gotten into, " I jokingly say. 

          "What do you mean? I didn't get us into this mess as you are saying."

I, with a slight laugh, explain about the American comedians Laurel and Hardy. And Hardy, the fat one always said that to Laurel. Not amusing at all to Sherlock. Because he doesn't get the reference.

          "When you get back to England, find one of their movies. They are a fantastic example of early comedy."

There was only one blanket in the boot of the car as it soon became plain that we would be stuck here for most of the night.

* * *

Wrapping ourselves snug in the blanket, Sherlock pulls me in closer explaining that our body heat would keep us warm. His arms around me, my head tucked into his neck. It's too much. too much heat. Too much closeness.

I feel the attraction to Sherlock ramp up, wanting to feel his body touching mine, his bare skin next to my skin. I am not sure how he is taking my accelerated breathing.

          "No," I say aloud to him as I'm pulling away,"I'm not that way."

Sherlock looks me in the eyes and even in the darkness, I can see his puzzlement,"Why are you protesting? We're just cuddling for warmth".

* * *

But my body is not letting me deny the feelings I'm having for this man-and not giving it a moment's thought, I reach over and kiss him lightly on the lips. It surprises me when he does not turn away but accepts the kiss.

* * *

Sherlock grabs my shirt and pulls me in tighter, and before I can react he's kissing me hard, his tongue opening my mouth and reaching deep inside. He has both his hands on my face holding me to him.

* * *

I take hold of his shirt and unbutton it with very shaky hands only to find he is still not stopping me. And...I was not going to stop.

* * *

We are exploring each other's bodies, touching, nipping, tasting. 

The taxi's windows fog, our breathing becomes faster as we edge toward the end of our quest.

* * *

Breathing slowing down, bodies now sated, I lay with my head back against the car seat not believing this has transpired.

I, who thought myself straight had sex with a man! I am high! High as the hills we are on.

* * *

Sherlock is feeling the same high. His laughter ringing out, "We were just keeping warm".

* * *

The touching, exploring begin...and again it's magnificent!

* * *

Our driver does not show up until morning, and the ship has sailed out of the harbor. Too late to catch it. 

The ship was due to dock a week later in another small town. 

Instead of hanging around Oban we hire a car-Sherlock paying- and drive around visiting the different villages, castles and staying the nights in bed and breakfast hotels.

Luxuriating in our time together, spending it learning the facets of us, our relationship.

* * *

Once back on the ship we keep ourselves apart. Even to walks on the deck in separate directions, coming into the dining room alone. 

We weren't fooling anyone. They gave us sly looks and the whispering is evident. It's now a game to find places and times to spend alone together.

* * *

At dinner the last night of the trip, making sure we are seated by each other, Sherlock whispers to me, "Spend the night in my room?"

Of course, I do!

* * *

That morning, Sherlock gives me a box.

          "A gift for you, for being so wonderful to me."

Upon opening it, there's the blue cashmere jumper that he had bought.

  "I have something for you."  

And out comes the scarf from a box I've handed to him.

          "Didn't need anything tangible. It was your very presence, your laugh, and the sharing. That was enough."

          "It's been so wonderful, a fairy tale."

I have to reiterate to Sherlock.

"Living with mom, I would prefer, Sherlock, if we do not see each other again. She won't take kindly to our relationship."

* * *

. I tell him I love him...but this is how it must be.

          "No, you can't. I love you. We are meant to be together."

          "This is what I have to do...please respect my wishes. No texts, phone calls or anything."

* * *

I slowly walk to my room and as I pack the emotions overwhelm me. 

I sob, wash my face and leave the ship...not looking around for Sherlock at all.

* * *

Once at home in London I move to Moms and set up in the bedroom next to hers.

* * *

The next morning, out of bed and dressed, I'm in the process of making breakfast for us when the doorbell rings.

It's the postman with a small package for me.

A white card from a florist in London with nothing written on the card.

Upon opening, I see one carnation. I take a deep breath and know it is from Sherlock. It has to be!

How he found my address I do not know. I choke up. But it gets me through that day and the days after as the carnations keep coming in each morning.

* * *

Harry has arranged to watch Mom a few afternoons and I use that time to find a part-time job in a clinic. 

It brings in extra money and allows me to keep in touch with my work as a doctor.

* * *

There are times when the postman doesn't appear until the afternoon and Harry sees the boxes come in. 

          "John, these boxes from a florist. Who and what and why?"

I had been thinking about a story, knowing this would happen. It was a wild one but just crazy enough that she might buy it.

          "On the ship, I had a brief affair with an older wealthy woman. Her husband was home in London and dying. It was a loveless marriage. The day before we docked she let me know when her husband died she find me and marry me. Setting me up in an office with equipment and with a full staff. I told her I wasn't interested but felt very honored. She would not hear of it and would keep in touch. The carnations are her way of doing this."

* * *

Harry laughed, "I cannot wait to see the end result. My brother, the kept man. That would be the funniest ever."

* * *

On the few days I worked at the clinic a woman drew my attention. She was flirting with me.

A petite blonde, always smiling, very lively. I approach her and Mary and I have a lunch date that day at the clinic. 

Mary is kind and understanding, and we began dating each other in earnest, even with an understanding about mom coming first.

* * *

There are evenings at the house where we would play cards or watch the telly. Mom loved her.

All was going well, and Mom and Harry were thrilled that I had met someone.

* * *

One night taking Mary home I decide she would fit nicely into my life. 

Having no idea how long mom would live I have to think of my future, and it's only four months since meeting Mary that I propose, and she accepts.

* * *

I find solace in her arms but the great love still remains Sherlock. Always in my heart. I can never talk about him, never mention his name. 

After my engagement, I contacted Sherlock by text to please stop sending the carnations. I was moving on.

* * *

Soon after my message the carnations stop. It is a letdown, but has to be.

* * *

Everything is going smoothly.

* * *

Mary and I will marry soon. A small ceremony at the house.

Its six months after the cruise and mom suddenly has a massive heart attack. Shes rushed to the hospital but dies the next day.

* * *

Mary accompanies Harry and me to the funeral.

It is such a bright, sunny day as the limos pulled up to the gravesite. Harry walks ahead, with Mary holding tight on my arm, keeping me steady on my feet. As we leave the grave, I catch a glimpse of a man standing off in the distance.

My heart begins to race. There is no doubt in my mind. It's Sherlock!

* * *

Mary, still clinging to my arm, notices me shaking and I let her assume it's about Mom.

* * *

But...it's the fact that I so, so want to be with Sherlock again.

Wanting to run over to him. to hug him tightly. But I dare not.

* * *

We arrive back at the house and I quickly excuse myself into my room shutting the door loudly.

Taking many deep breaths and holding myself as a soldier I then proceed back downstairs.

I watch as Mary and Harry fix us lunch and nobody says a word for which I'm grateful.

People continue in and out of the house, and my quiet is taken for granted. Let them think it's moms death that has me devastated. Which it partly is.

I'm glad when everyone, including Mary, leaves the house.

* * *

Into my room, falling on my bed, on my stomach, the pillow hiding my sobs.

Sherlock Sherlock, I need, want, desire you.

* * *

For the next week or so Harry and I have the usual things to wrap up to settle moms estate.

Harry is getting the house, and I'm settled with a substantial amount of money.

Enough to allow me to find a flat in London proper, open a practice and at least have one or two nurses on staff.

* * *

My original idea had been for Mary and me marrying, her moving into the house with us til mom died. 

Eventually getting a flat or a house.

Never in my wildest dreams did I expect Mom to go this quickly!

So here I am free, able to do as I wish, but I feel a moral obligation to Mary. How do I leave her to follow my heart?

* * *

Although I never say the words 'I love you' to her she states it constantly.

I did feel attracted to her and enjoy all the things we do together. But? Was that enough to go on?

* * *

In the end, it's my Harry who sets me on a different path.

She makes us tea and asks me to sit with her in the living room.

          I have a confession to make. I've been living with a woman, Clara, for the last year. Well, not exactly living with her. She has her own place and I stay there most of the time. I'm in love with her and we want to marry. I didn't tell you for fear you would slip to Mom about this."

* * *

She laughed a nervous laugh. I smile widely showing my approval.

          "This is such good news and wonderful for you"

* * *

Harry surprises me by remembering about my older woman from the ship and why the carnations stopped coming.

          "Maybe now is the time when you should get in touch with her and renew acquaintances. Even if you don't marry her, the friendship could prove advantageous to you."

* * *

          "Ok, time for me to confess the truth about the carnations." 

Out comes the whole story as tears run down my cheeks.

* * *

She's taken my hand, holding it tightly.

          "John, If you do not follow your dreams then sometime in the future you will grow to hate Mary and yourself for what you denied. Go to this man Sherlock? A strange name, and see if he still loves you."

* * *

I take out my phone right then and there, and with shaking hands text him.

Will he remember me? Care about me?

          _Please Sherlock, I must see you. Have something extremely important to discuss with you.Give me a place and time for us to meet. Please answer_

* * *

Not even two minutes pass.

          _Tomorrow Saturday two, at Speedy's Cafe, 220 Baker St in London. I know the owner so we can sit in the back and talk_

Did I sleep that night? Not a whit!!!

* * *

I rehearse over and over and over again what and how I want to say those words. 

Did Sherlock still want me? He knew about the engagement and that's why the carnations stopped. Was he over me? Did he have another lover?

* * *

I have a light breakfast of tea and toast...my stomach churning all the while.

Taking a long shower and try on many different outfits.

Settling on the blue cashmere jumper with a plaid blue-green shirt under, khaki trousers and my most comfortable shoes.

* * *

A cab brings me to Speedy's at two and walking in the door, Sherlock is sitting in the back at a table for two. My heart is pounding away, legs shaky, mouth dry. I'm not sure whether to shake hands or what.

* * *

He's sitting sideways at the table with his long legs crossed, coat still on with the blue scarf I had bought him. It looks like he's getting ready to leave. A scowl is on his face so I nod my head and sit down. There are two cups of tea on the table.

* * *

Sherlock turns up to look at me and before I can even get the cup of tea to my mouth, " You're getting married, and you want to invite me to your wedding. I do not know why the need to see me in person to tell me this. I decline your invitation. By the way, have a great time."

All said in that deep baritone he uses when upset and his tone is bitter and brusque.

He abruptly gets up to step away but I pull his arm to stop him.

          "You stupid git, will you give me a chance to talk? I'm not inviting you to a wedding. There is no wedding. Now sit down and for once just be quiet and listen to me!"

* * *

He sits down still sideways again as if to make a hasty getaway.

          "I'm asking you if you still care about me. No, if you still love me. Because you see, I love you. It's you I want to marry. Now," taking one deep breath," what do you say to that?"

* * *

Sherlock stand up, grabs my hand, pulling me up out of my seat and leading me out the door of the cafe. I've no chance to think.

* * *

He turns right on the sidewalk and up to a door marked 221B.

Inside we go, him still holding my hand and pulling me behind him, up a flight of stairs of the house.

* * *

Opening a door and pushing me in ahead of him, and before I can think or say anything, he's closed the door, pushed me against it and is kissing me hard on the mouth.

Kissing back, our hands on each other's bodies

* * *

He releases me as I give a large sigh, look at him wide-eyed, and he grabs my hand again.

Pulling me into the bedroom and literally throwing me on the bed with him following on top.

* * *

The morning sees us lying in the bed in happy contentment. 

We had slept, made love, giggled and talked. My doubts were gone! Sherlock loves me.

* * *

          "What are you going to do about Mary."

          I'll break it as best as I can to her. I can't go through with the marriage. She's a wonderful lady, but, I never loved her."

We dress, shower and have a quick breakfast. I leave with a promise of coming that night to him.

* * *

Mary is home and she's surprised to see me.

Sitting on the couch I take her both hands in mine and explain the situation. She begins to cry and then to curse me out.

I take it quietly and wait for her to make a move.

* * *

          "You are in love with a man? That's why you did not like being in bed with me. You were so hesitant about sex." Taking the engagement ring off with a jerk, she throws it in my lap.

          "Here's your ring, and get out, you disgust me, and I never want to see you again."

I pick up the ring, silently head to the door and close it. Sigh!

That was over. I did not like doing that...but it was best for both of us.

* * *

Back over to see Harry, who is now living in the house and tell her the news. She is thrilled for me.

          "Maybe a double wedding will do."

* * *

It's my intention to eventually move in with Sherlock but for now, I take an overnight bag and let Harry know I'm going to see Sherlock and would be at work the next day.

As I walk to get a cab I think about the many adventures and the happiness that finally awaits the army doctor. Me!


End file.
